


Lodestar

by colonel_bastard



Series: Lodestar [2]
Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Community: disney_kink, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim just wants to get closer.  He wants to get as close to Silver as he possibly can.  He certainly doesn’t want to walk away from him now, not after what just passed between them— not after the way Silver held him, and he suddenly felt safe, and happy, and loved.  He can hardly bear the thought of being separated from him after that, even for just a few hours.  </p><p>On a desperate impulse, he jerks his chin towards the below decks, beckoning.  </p><p>“Come with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lodestar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the spectacular disney_kink, set during the scene in the movie when Silver tells Jim that he has greatness in him (aka one of the Most Romantic Speeches Ever In Film). Right before he goes below deck, Jim looks back with that shy smile. Prompter says: _What if the smile turns slightly seductive and he invites Silver to follow him with a slight head motion? What if Silver takes him up on that offer and follows Jim to a more private part of the ship?_ I could not resist.
> 
> Warning for underage since Jim's only fifteen.

Just before he goes below deck, Jim stops and looks back. There’s Silver, watching him go, always watching him, always standing by. When Jim turns, the cyborg lifts his mechanical hand in a gesture of farewell, his smile fond and familiar. 

But it’s not goodbye. He’ll be there in morning. Jim is starting to get the feeling that he’ll always be there, and something in his chest aches at the very thought of it. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way about another person before— wanting to be with him all the time, never apart, even when they’re just peeling scubbers down in the galley. They’re joined at the hip virtually every waking moment and it’s still barely enough to satisfy him. Jim just wants to get closer. He wants to get as close to Silver as he possibly can. He certainly doesn’t want to walk away from him now, not after what just passed between them— not after the way Silver held him, and he suddenly felt safe, and happy, and loved. He can hardly bear the thought of being separated from him after that, even for just a few hours. 

On a desperate impulse, he jerks his chin towards the below decks, beckoning. 

“Come with me.”

Silver chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I’ve got me watch, lad. I’ll catch me sleep when I’m done.” 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Jim says. “I want you to come with me.”

Now the big man’s expression sobers, turning uncertain as his hands come down on the railing before him and grip tight for balance. 

“I can’t do that, Jimbo,” he mutters. “I’ve got to keep me post.” 

“Fine,” Hawkins shrugs. “Then I’ll stay with you.” 

Eyes narrowing, Silver says nothing in answer, just turns and limps away towards the stern to continue his patrol. Jim catches up with him at the aft rail, staring back at the stars they’ve left behind. 

“Silver,” he says quietly. 

“Away with ye, lad,” the big man waves him off. “There’s no sense in the both of us losing our rest. Heaven knows I wouldn’t hang about if it was you on the night watch.”

“But you do,” Jim reminds him. “You always keep me company when I’m stuck out here.”

Silver winces, caught in a lie. Jim takes the opportunity to come in close, to lay a hand on his flesh and blood arm, feeling the muscles tense underneath his touch. 

“Silver, I—” he swallows hard. “I just— I wanna be with you.”

Clearing his throat loudly, Silver tosses his head to indicate the riggings that he knows Jim loves to climb. 

“A’right, a’right then,” he says briskly. “Find yerself a perch, only don’t come crying to me in the morning when ye’re too tuckered out for yer chores.” 

Jim’s fingers curl into the heavy material of his jacket sleeve, silently pleading with him to understand, to take control like he always does, to show Jim the way. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his tone insistent. 

“Watch it, boy,” Silver snaps unexpectedly, jerking his arm free. “I ain’t in the mood for no games.” 

Jim withdraws his hand hastily, startled by his vehemence.

“What game?” he splutters. “It’s not a game!” 

“Well then if it’s a joke I ain’t laughing.” 

Mortified, Jim feels angry tears boiling up in his eyes, furious with Silver for being so dismissive of him, furious with himself for thinking that he might actually have a chance to be even _happier,_ to feel even _closer._ They’d finally had such a good thing going, too. Now he’s fucked it all up. He just _had_ to push his luck, he just _had_ to ask for more. 

“Fine,” he hisses. “Whatever. If you’re gonna be a jerk about it, I’m _gone._ ”

He’s almost to the edge of the deck when Silver calls weakly, “Steady on, there!” And when he looks back, he sees an expression on the big man’s face that he’s never seen before. He looks... completely lost. Maybe even a little bit scared. 

“Was you... being serious just now, Jimbo?” he asks cautiously. 

“Uh,” Jim swipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Well, yeah.” He stares down at the deck, miserable. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what to do. I wish you would just—” He bites his tongue. “Forget it.” 

Funny to think that the uneven rhythm of a cyborg’s step could ever sound so comforting to him. Staring at his boots, he can hear Silver approaching slowly, the distance between them gradually disappearing until they’re practically toe to toe. Jim doesn’t look up at him, not till Silver takes him by the chin and tilts his head back so that he’s forced to meet his gaze. 

“Aye, ye look sane enough,” the big man murmurs sadly, studying his face. “But what could a fine young lad like yerself ever want from a mangy old space dog like me?”

Jim grabs his wrist with both hands, fingers digging in hard. 

“Hold me,” he rasps. “I want you to hold me.” 

Silver doesn’t hesitate. The moment Jim gives the command he obeys, dragging the boy into his arms and crushing him fiercely against his body without another word. Jim is reminded instantly of the supernova, of the way Silver pinned him against the mast, shielding him from danger with every inch of himself. There’d been no hesitation then, either— it had been Silver’s first instinct to guard Jim’s life with his own. The smell of him is overpowering. Jim grabs fistfuls of his shirt and clings on for dear life. 

“What do ye want, Jim?” Silver says hoarsely. “Tell me what ye want.” 

“Come with me,” Jim pants, pulling on his collar. “Please come with me.” 

Silver nods shakily. “A’right, boy. A’right.” 

There’s no one in the galley at this hour of the night, and even if it were day this is their domain, their private kingdom below the decks. Silver leads them all the way to the back, hidden from view. Then he pins Jim against the wall with his good hand, his expression raw, unguarded. 

“Are ye sure, Jimbo?”

“Please,” Jim answers. “Silver, _please_.” 

And the hand moves swiftly to the back of his neck, grabbing his hair and jerking his head back so Silver can cover his lips with his own. He pours his tongue into Jim’s mouth, inexorable, unleashed, while Jim whimpers and clutches at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, always closer, never close enough. He can feel the mechanical fingers winding their way across the small of his back, drawing him up into the kiss, forcing him to rise onto his toes to compensate. _Yes,_ he thinks, _tighter, hold me tighter._

“Ach, Jimmy boy,” Silver growls against his lips. “What’ve ye done to me? Ye’re driving me mad.” 

Jim trembles, dizzy with desire. He’s harder than he can ever remember being in his life. Groping blindly down the span of Silver’s belly, he reaches between his legs and feels that he’s hard, too— and when he touches him there, the big man moans and jolts his hips toward him, desperate for more. Emboldened, Jim grinds the heel of his hand against Silver’s groin as hard as he can. Silver grunts and hisses in savage enjoyment, then moves his good hand down to Jim’s hard-on and palms it roughly, rubbing him off through the thin cloth of his trousers. Jim’s skull cracks hard against the bulkhead as he throws back his head in a surge of pleasure. 

“ _Yes,_ ” he whines. “Ah, God, that’s— nnnh—”

Silver’s breath is hot and heavy against his ear. 

“Have ye ever been touched by another?”

“No,” he confesses freely, unashamed. “Just you.” 

“Oh, fuck me,” Silver groans. “Ye’re so young, boy. Ye’re so bloody young.” 

“Don’t say that,” Jim implores him. “I’m old enough. I’m not a kid.” 

“A’course ye aren’t, Jimbo,” the big man soothes. “But don’t be ashamed of yer youth, neither. ‘Tis a precious thing.” His voice becomes strained. “Why, I consider it— an honor— to be—” 

But he chokes on the words, and has to stop and dash his eyes with his sleeve. Jim loves him so much it hurts. 

“Silver,” he reaches up to his face. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Nuzzling his mouth into the palm of Jim’s hand, Silver sighs. 

“I don’t deserve ye, lad. Ye’re too good fer me.”

Jim doesn’t want to wait anymore. He fumbles with his belt, his fly, and shoves his pants down to his knees to free his aching hard-on. Then he takes Silver by the wrist and guides him down to take hold. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’m ready.” 

Tentatively, Silver’s calloused fingertips brush against the younger man’s erection, almost as if he can’t quite decide if _he’s_ ready for this. Jim bites his lip against the urge to beg, just holds his breath and closes his eyes until Silver finally curls his fingers around him and _squeezes._ Then his breath judders out of him in a whole-body shiver. Silver sets to pumping him slowly, his grip carefully restrained, using only a fraction of his full strength. Jim will have none of it. 

“Harder,” he commands, almost immediately. 

“I don’t want to hurt ye, Jimbo.”

“You won’t hurt me. I can take it.” 

Silver’s grasp tightens marginally. Jim bucks his hips, impatient. 

“I’m not made of glass, old man! I’ve jerked off harder in my _sleep!_ ”

Now Silver growls in earnest, and when his grip tightens again, it’s so intense that Jim actually yelps and grabs onto him, snatching blindly at his broad chest. 

“Fuck!” he gasps. “Yeah, like _that_ , please, _again!_ ” 

“ _Again,_ he says, like that’s all there is,” Silver rumbles, amused. “Boy, I’m just getting started.” 

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he swipes his tongue messily across the palm, leaving a generous, glistening coat of spit. It’s so fucking _sexy_ that Jim moans before he even touches him again. Silver’s good eye is hazy and half-lidded with lust, lust for him, for _Jim,_ and that’s what makes this whole thing so goddamn unbelievable. Jim wants Silver so badly that he can hardly believe that Silver wants him in return. He can hardly believe he could ever be that _lucky._

And it _must_ show on his face, because there it is written all over Silver’s, unmistakable, and they take a second to just stare at each other and drink it in. Then Silver leans in and kisses him, deep, possessive. In the midst of it he reaches down and takes Jim in his hand again, swallowing up the ensuing cry as his next breath. Jim grabs mindlessly at his head, frantic with the desire to keep kissing him, catching him by his remaining ear and pulling him in for more. Silver kisses him hungrily, his mechanical fingers digging into Jim’s back while his flesh hand works him between the legs until he’s keening like a wild animal, his primal cries stifled by the big man’s mouth. 

He almost screams in frustration when Silver halts abruptly, slumping forward and bracing himself against the wall with his robotic elbow.

“No!” Jim practically shrieks. “Don’t stop! Why’d you stop?” 

“Sorry, Jimbo,” Silver pants. “Oof, ye’re killing me, ye really are.” 

Jim looks down and sees that the big man is rubbing clumsily at the bulge in his own trousers, trying to relieve even just a fraction of the pressure so that he can return his attention to his cabin boy. He’s only got the one good hand, Jim realizes, and he’d rather use it on Jim than himself. 

“Hey,” Jim interjects. “Let me help you with that.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, lad,” Silver says hastily, almost embarrassed. “I can take care of meself.” 

Jim takes him by the arm, holds him still to make sure he really listens to this next bit. This is important. 

“I know,” he says. “Now let _me_ take care of you.” 

Visibly moved, Silver makes no further protest as Jim pulls open his belt buckle, unfastens his breeches, and shucks them down low enough to release him. Before he goes any further he checks the older man’s face for encouragement, only to see that Silver has his eyes shut tight, almost cringing, as though he expects Jim to come to his senses and bolt at any second. And Jim thinks fiercely: _no fucking way._

“Okay,” he says loudly. “Lemme see if I got this right.” 

Proudly, shamelessly, he swipes his tongue across the palm of his hand and grabs hold of Silver’s cock with all the force he can muster. It’s a puny echo of the older man’s considerable strength, but he’d like to think that it’s enough to get his point across. 

And yeah, that seems to do the trick. Silver’s eyes don’t just open, they almost pop out of his skull, his weight sagging against the arm that he still has braced against the bulkhead. 

“Glory be,” he wheezes. “Ye sure aren’t shy, are ye, lad?” 

“Nope,” Jim grins. “Now it’s my turn.” 

For all his bravado, it still takes a little work to figure out how to do this. The only dick he’s ever jerked is his own, and that’s stupidly easy. It’s a lot trickier when the guy’s facing you, when he’s so much bigger, when you can’t quite decide if you should go up and down or back and forth. Licking his other palm, he decides to try a hand over hand motion, almost like he’s pulling in the sails, starting at the base of Silver’s cock and drawing out towards the tip, again and again. Silver’s breathing hard, his good hand twining into Jim’s hair, not saying a word. 

“Is this okay?” Jim mumbles, his rhythm faltering. “Am— am I doing okay?”

At once Silver releases a groan so rough and guttural that Jim’s skin breaks out in gooseflesh. 

“It’s fine, lad,” he rasps. “Ye’re doing fine.” 

Relieved, invigorated, Jim redoubles his efforts, thrilled at the way Silver’s voice is reduced to a series of staccato grunts, his huge body tensing and shuddering, his breath increasingly labored. Jim feels proud of himself, so fucking proud that he can make Silver feel this way. He wants to make him feel like this all the time. He wants him to know how much he loves him, even though he can’t say it out loud just yet. 

He’s yanked to a halt when Silver suddenly seizes him by the arms, pinning him back against the wall. 

“Hold on, now,” the big man says raggedly. “Don’t finish me just yet.” 

For the second time tonight he brings his hand up to his mouth. Then he spits into it, and offers it to his cabin boy. 

“Gimme some spit, Jimbo.” 

Jim works up a mouthful and hawks it into his waiting palm. He’s so woozy with excitement that he can hardly see straight. He’s dimly aware of Silver reaching around to the side of his mechanical arm, twisting off a cap— a thin stream of oil drizzles out and he coats the rest of his hand with it, muttering something to himself about how he’ll refill it in the morning. Then he shifts his weight until he’s as close to Jim as he can manage. 

“Easy does it,” he murmurs reassuringly. 

He gives Jim’s prick a quick once over, too quick, just enough to layer it with oil. Then he points it up along his belly, and positions his own in the same fashion. Jim figures out what he’s going to do right before he does it, as he presses their cocks flush against each other, encircling them both with his big, powerful hand. 

It’s so unbelievably _warm._ Silver’s cock feels huge and heated against his own, a feeling made even more intense by the force of the grip squeezing them together. Not an inch of Jim remains uncovered— what isn’t connected directly to Silver is cocooned under the broad spread of his hand, the muscles in his palm twitching against Jim’s most sensitive points. Nothing has ever felt so good.

“Ah, just look, Jimmy boy,” Silver’s voice is thick with emotion. “We fit together. We was made to fit together.” 

Jim wants that to be true more than anything. 

Slowly, deliberately, Silver starts to pump them in tandem. Jim is so worked up that he almost comes on the spot, but he’s determined to make this last for as long as he can. He clenches his jaw and holds back, and as each precious second of willpower ticks away, he struggles to commit every single detail of this encounter to memory. The smell of Silver, heady and masculine, sweat and tobacco and the trace of grog on his breath. The sound of him, his jagged breathing, the muttered curses that occasionally slip from between his gritted teeth. It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. Jim could almost drown in it. 

“Did you mean it?” he whimpers, his throat so constricted that he can barely form the words. “Do you think— do you really think I’m— special?”

“Ye’re a miracle, lad,” Silver answers roughly, pressing a kiss into Jim’s damp hair. “I only wish ye could see it like I do.” 

That does it. Orgasm comes in an uncontrollable rush, Jim’s whole body twisting with the force of it, his knees giving out so completely that he would collapse straight to the floor if he didn’t have the bulkhead to support him. A few seconds later and Silver comes hard, his cry of release emerging in the form of Jim’s name. He wrings them together, drawing out every last drop of sensation as aftershocks leave them twitching and gasping, until finally they’re both too spent to go even one second further. Even then he seems hesitant to let go, and when he does withdraw his hand it’s with definite reluctance. 

For a moment they just stand there, panting. Then with a heavy sigh, Silver turns his back to the wall and slumps down to sit on the floor, thoroughly worn out. Jim sprawls against his side, cushioning himself on the older man’s generous belly while Silver draws a handkerchief from his pocket and mops his face.

“Oh, heaven have mercy,” he chuckles weakly, tousling the younger man’s hair. “Ye’ll be the death of me, Jimbo, make no mistake.” 

Jim laughs and squeezes him around the middle, as much of him as he can fit into his arms. 

“You better not quit on me, old man,” he threatens. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

“Ye’re givin’ me orders now, are ye?” 

“You bet I am.”

He becomes aware of a golden light falling on him and looks up to see that cybernetic eye studying him intently. After some consideration, Silver takes off his hat and plops it down onto Jim’s head— it’s hot and sweaty and Jim could not be more thrilled. 

“Well aye-aye, Captain Hawkins, sir,” the big man murmurs, his arm settling around Jim’s shoulders. “I’ll stick around for a while, then, if ye’re so keen on me.” 

“Mmm,” Jim says, content. 

It’s so cool and quiet and dark in the galley. Under his ear he’s got the steady, soothing rhythm of Silver’s heart, while the rise and fall of the big man’s breathing works on him like a cradle. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until Silver is shaking him gently back to waking again. 

“Come on, lad,” he says fondly. “A pup like you needs his rest.” 

With a tremendous grunt of effort, he clambers to his feet and hauls Jim up after him. He then gives them both a head-to-toe appraisal and tuts in disapproval at what he sees. 

“What a mess we made. Positively shameful.” He winks, then jerks his head towards the wash basin. “Let’s get ye cleaned up.” 

As he runs water over the cleanest rag he can find, he adds, “Shuck out o’ them britches, then.” 

Yawning, Jim doesn’t even think to protest, just obediently kicks off his boots and steps out of his trousers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He approaches the basin when Silver beckons. He’d sort of assumed that the big man would just toss him the rag and let him take care of himself, but to his amazement the mechanical hand claps on to his shoulder and Silver sets to carefully washing him between the legs. He wipes away the oil coating his groin and belly, mops up the streaks running down the insides of his thighs while Jim shivers with delight. It’s over way too quickly. Silver offers him a towel to dry himself with. 

“No,” Jim juts his hips forward impetuously. “You do it.” 

Silver’s eyebrows rise up to his bandana, but then his mouth curls into a smile and he says, “Aye-aye, Captain Hawkins, sir.” 

As he stoops to the task, Jim reaches up to wind his arms around him, knitting his fingers together at the back of his neck and holding on. Silver emits a deep, resonant rumble of satisfaction, almost like a purr — or maybe it _is_ a purr, who even knows — and butts his head against Jim’s affectionately. Then he towels him off as tenderly as as he can manage. The material is scratchy and uncomfortable, but the touch behind it is so adoring that Jim hardly notices. He watches Silver’s face and likes what he sees. 

“There ye go, lad,” Silver coughs, disentangling himself hastily as soon as he’s finished. “Now ye’d best get to yer hammock before someone counts heads and figures ye’re gone.” 

Jim tries to move towards him, but the big man turns him and nudges him towards the door instead, giving him a light swat on the rear to send him on his way. 

“Run along, now,” he insists. “I’ve got to swab up and get back to me post or it’ll be me hide.”

Grudgingly, Jim gathers up his trousers and boots and shuffles off in the direction of the galley steps, pausing at their base to get dressed again. He’s just finished pulling on his second boot when he remembers that he has the perfect excuse to go bounding back, and he gets there just in time to catch Silver refastening his belt. 

“Hey!” he calls. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

He’s spinning the big man’s hat on his index finger. Silver laughs, then bends at the waist and inclines his head, waiting for Jim to put it on him. Instead, Jim grabs him by the ear and kisses him hard on the mouth. 

_Then_ he puts the hat on him. 

“See ya round,” he smirks. “Old man.” 

His heart almost explodes when Silver grabs him forcefully by the shirt and kisses him back. 

“See ya round, then,” he smirks in return. “Jimbo.” 

And Jim creeps back through the ship, slips into his hammock, and falls asleep with the _goofiest_ fucking smile on his face. 

 

 

 

 

_____________end.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic now has a sequel: [Maybe You'll Be Lonesome Too.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2738561)


End file.
